


I'm With You

by Yeah_JSmith



Series: Ruff Stuff [17]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: BDSM, Basically Just Judy Taking Care of Nick on Their Day Off, Established Relationship, F/M, Light Spanking, Love, Mild Smut, Nothing But the Best for Nick Wilde, Praise Kink, Strange Language to Capture Subspace, brushing, petting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 04:11:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18335927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeah_JSmith/pseuds/Yeah_JSmith
Summary: Nick feels most at home right next to Judy. It's where he feels safest, most relaxed, and most loved. Thankfully, Judy loves having him there.





	I'm With You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on another fluffy thing about open mic nights and like finding love in a styrofoam coffee cup, but it isn't finished yet, so I guess y'all get this instead, even though I had originally decided it wasn't good enough for my _Ruff Stuff_ timeline. This isn't necessary for RS continuity, by the by. It's just another strange one-shot that kind of plays with POV.
> 
> For clarity's sake, this takes place sometime after _Exhibit A._ I think it's clear enough in the text, but Nick's thoughts are...well. You'll see. The perspective problems are primarily why I initially put this in the "do not ever post" pile, but eh, it's fanfiction, not a dissertation.

Nick had never minded being naked, and he didn't mind seeing other mammals naked either. He actively _liked_ seeing Judy naked, but she wasn’t. That was okay. It was their day off, and as a pleasant surprise, when he’d offered her his whole self — carte blanche, permission to do whatever she wanted — she had agreed. Playing Luna and Oliver Evergreen had shifted their dynamic, given them both courage to try new things.

Currently, he was stretched face-down over her lap, completely unclothed, while she sat on their bed. Her back was to the wall and she was running a brush through his fur, and it felt amazing: gentle, steady, rhythmic. Each little knot she encountered was dealt with efficiently, but softly. Judy always brushed him best.

He didn’t bother to try to keep his eyes open. Whatever she decided to do with him, he would love it, but right now it seemed like she wanted to ease him into whatever she had in mind. The brush flowed through his fur as she ran it over the already-brushed spots on his back, the bristles putting pressure on the skin beneath, and he shuddered happily. Judy’s grooming rituals always strayed into body worship. When she took the brush to his tail, working it through the fur slowly, he wriggled in her lap, feeling the pleasure of it.

A good brushing _always_ managed to calm him down, no matter how stressed he was. With the brush in his tail and her soft, soft paws following after, searching for knots or tangled objects, he—

“Ohh,” he groaned with a small jolt. She’d taken the smooth, round back of the brush to his testicles, and in his haze, it had felt more intense than it might have otherwise. She leaned over and kissed his scapula, the highest area she could reach with her mouth, and set the brush aside so that she could cup his balls with her paw instead. While she petted him in that sensitive area, she also threaded her fingers through the fur on his lower back, causing different sensations.

She sure knew how to get him interested. She wasn’t exactly fondling him or coaxing out his penis with her play, but instead, relaxing him with pleasure. He’d already been pretty relaxed, but he could feel the last of the tension fade from his shoulders and hips. All Nick could think about was the gentle feel of her paws, the lightest _scritch_ of her little claws on his lower back…

After a moment, he had a wonderful, brilliant idea. “Will you please spank me? Just a little?”

She paused in her dual petting. “Is something wrong?”

“No, Ma’am,” he said, sighing in pleasure as she ran her careful paws through his fur again. “It’s good that you’re in charge of everything. I'm already right here, though, and you always make it feel so good. I'm not asking for a punishment, just a spanking. A relaxing one.”

He thought his voice might sound a little faraway, but maybe that was just his ears. When everything felt this good, sometimes the whole world gentled into something soft and dim and less harsh. Judy’s voice sounded a little faraway, too, when she answered, “Oh, Nick. I’m in charge of you today. You can have whatever you want.”

Was that contradictory? He didn’t know. He couldn’t care, especially when her paw came down to rub his rear and upper thighs while her other kept up the gentle petting of his lower back. She gave the best spankings, too — careful ones, another version of body worship even when it was purely disciplinary and it hurt so bad it made his eyes leak — because she was his domme, and he was her sub, and that meant a hell of a lot. They had met some absolute garbage whose kink came from a desire to keep their damaged hearts guarded and not from a place of respect, but

(his thought couldn’t complete itself because negativity was too hard to even contemplate, feeling as good as he did)

when Judy’s paws both moved to begin patting where she’d been rubbing previously, he sighed and rubbed his cheek on his forearm. They were tiny little swats, spreading the warmup over a large area, but they wouldn’t stay that way. Judy got to choose how hard his spanking was, and how long it would go, and whatever she chose, Nick would be grateful for it. Even now, after all of her petting and grooming and obvious shows of love, he was beginning to drift out of his own head, the low heat from her gentle strikes to his upper thighs and cheeks spreading pleasantly through his body. Normally he wasn’t so quick to fall into subspace, but knowing she was in charge, giving her absolute control over him, over whether his requests would even be considered, allowed him to just _let go._ He didn’t have to keep track of anything or worry about anything, because his mistress wouldn’t harm him.

Her strikes got a little firmer and he sighed into his arms again. She felt so wonderful. He felt so wonderful. She began alternating between flat paws and cupped paws, switching up the sensations but never falling into a predictable pattern, allowing it to keep drifting. A few swats dragged her fingers slightly across its undercurves, and it felt _phenomenal,_ like a cross between a spanking and a good old-fashioned groping session, striking before grabbing a pawful of its butt. Somewhere, it sort of understood that it was getting turned on, especially by that movement and by the sparse harder swats, but that cognizance was lost beneath the joyful drift.

It lost the ability to comprehend time, only able to _feel,_ only able to make the little chesty keening noises that some very small part of it that was still _Nick_ knew Mistress liked. The touch of its own cheek atop its crossed arms on the bed was intense, but not as powerful as the way one of her paws sneaked down to nudge its thighs apart so she could spank its testicles, too. _So, so good._ She was saying something, but it didn’t care what it was. It didn’t care about anything. Even her hardest strikes felt like a dream. It was impossible to feel anything but joy and love here, stretched across Mistress’ lap. It was home. It was safe, it was loved, it was _home._

The spanking could have lasted an hour, and it could have lasted thirty seconds. The fox wouldn’t know. It whined involuntarily when Mistress pulled her paws away, sticking its rear up a little higher, maybe hoping to entice her? It wasn’t really sure, its body was just doing things, it wasn’t the fox’s problem. Mistress was in charge.

“You’re getting hard,” she said. It was sort of surprised it had understood that, but maybe the lack of sensation had given it some hearing back. It nodded, insensate sounds failing to be speech, but cool, smart, beautiful Mistress seemed to understand, because she rubbed its thighs a little and then helped it crawl forward a bit more. She helped it turn on its back with its head on a pillow and tucked some more pillows around its upper body, giving it a safe little nest to lie in.

Mistress gripped its penis and it flung its arms out wide, feeling the pleasure run through to the tips of its fingers. It shuddered and then didn’t understand where the paw had gone until Mistress’ smile was back in its field of view and a quiet hum accompanied a vibrating touch against its perineum.

It moaned, because it was allowed to, and because everything felt good.

“Don't worry about moving, Sweetheart,” Mistress said gently, massaging circles with her thumb on its hip. “Go ahead and let loose. If you want to touch yourself, you can.”

Or maybe she said something else. It was having a hard time processing anything but the buzz and the aching space between its body and hers.

It didn’t want to touch itself. It wanted to stay right where it was, riding the high of subspace, feeling the pulse against its perineum. The buzz was deliciously warm, and nested in the pillows like this with Mistress’ paw on its belly, the fox felt completely protected from any ills. Why would it want to move? Why would it want to take back the control it had gladly given her? It didn't even care if it came or not, if that was even a real thing. It just wanted to feel this, for as long as possible.

It felt happy and safe and loved. Mistress took care of her fox. She disciplined it when it needed discipline, praised it as often as she could, gave it validation, and made it feel _so good._ It didn't have to be perfect. It didn't have to be smart or sly or fit into a mold. It only had to be itself, and she said it was good. It _was_ good.

(He? Was the fox a he? Who cared?)

“I love you, Ma'am,” it managed to murmur through the haze. It wriggled a little, spreading its legs further as the speed of the buzzing thing warmed the head more. Other than that small movement, though, it didn't do anything. It kept its arms spread wide, its head against the pillow. It loved its mistress and she loved her fox and it was the luckiest fox in the world for both.

In a soft, tender voice, she asked it, “Do you want to cum, Nick?”

That was probably its name. Nick.

“Mm-hmm,” it, or he, replied, not because it cared one way or the other, but because it wanted to be good. If Mistress wanted it to finish, it wanted to make her happy.

The pulse pushed hard against its perineum and Mistress said firmly, “Then be a good boy and cum for me.”

And it _had to._

It was like the best kind of drug, _be a good boy, good boy, good good good,_ and it saw screaming colors behind eyes that closed involuntarily. Otherwise, everything else in the world went on mute, and muscles it didn’t even remember _having_ quivered, and oh, God, it loved orgasming in the out-of-body drift. It soared above the bed, somehow both heavy and untouched by gravity, and its only tether was Mistress’ soft paw rubbing its belly and her soft voice saying it was _good, good, good._

The fox might have fallen asleep, or might have just drifted until the sound of a name finally pulled him (yes, him) out of it. When Nick (his name was Nick) came aware of his surroundings again, he was damp from Judy’s (right, Mistress’ name was Judy) cleaning cloth, warm from the blankets that had come from somewhere, and safe under her careful petting and watchful, protective gaze. He was home.

“I’m good,” he said sleepily. It was almost a question, but he was too warm and happy to worry overmuch about the answer. He had no anxiety about it. Everything was wonderful.

“You’re so good. The best,” she affirmed. And because she’d said it, Nick wholeheartedly believed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe they aren't quite over Nate Snow yet, but it still works out, and he doesn't get to ruin the nice things. Canon Nick is a perfect sub, and RS Nick has embraced that, and no amount of gaslighting and seduction scams (from a trashcan like Nate) can come between Judy and Nick. I want my wonderful dumb fox to have all the things he deserves and wants, and what he wants -- canonically -- is to be good, to be liked, to be trusted and trustworthy, and regardless of the life path he takes, being the submissive in a BDSM relationship can give him that and more. It gives him power and strength and so much love, and I just want Nick to be happy all the time. I mean, I want Judy to be happy too. But Nick is my favorite.


End file.
